


Go Go Go

by aclosetlarryshipper



Series: I Think I'm Kissing Louis Tonight- The Series [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Blow Jobs, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, but it is, ok it's barely even a facial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aclosetlarryshipper/pseuds/aclosetlarryshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re supposed to have sex on their anniversary, but…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Go Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wreckedboyfriends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckedboyfriends/gifts).



“Harry, you literally just said to turn here.”

Harry looks down to the newly uploaded GPS on his phone, clicking on a button he thinks will give him directions but actually completely cancels their entire route.

“Sorry! This is confusing,” he explains, retyping the address for the restaurant into the search bar. He can feel the bouts of irritation radiating from Louis in strong waves, but it isn’t his fault the GPS doesn’t know what it’s doing. And it isn’t his fault they’ve been searching for a restaurant that was supposed to be ten minutes away for over an hour. No, it’s definitely just the GPS.

“Wait, Louis, I said right, not left!”

By the time they reach their destination, Harry feels even smaller than usual. Louis cups his own face in his hands and sighs as soon as the parking brake is up, but he makes no move to get out of the car for a few moments.

When he turns to face Harry, his smile is tight, as though he is trying to pretend everything is okay when it really isn’t.

And it _really_ isn’t.

Harry has been looking forward to this day for two slow, dragging weeks. He’s been marking the days off with red hearts on his calendar, and he hasn’t been able to sleep because of his excitement.

It’s their four-month anniversary, and Louis told him he wanted to celebrate and make it special a few weeks ago during a sleepover. He told Harry he rented them a hotel room in the city and made a reservation at a fancy restaurant, and even though Louis reassured him that the hotel room didn’t mean they had to do anything, Harry told him he was more than ready for _everything_ and kissed him hard.

So, yeah, that’s the plan.

But now that the day has come, Harry isn’t as sure as he was before. He’s a ball of nerves, and every time he even looks at Louis all he can think about is how later he’s going to actually be inside of him, stretching him more than he’s ever been stretched before and it’s just—it’s scary.

Harry is honestly terrified, and doesn’t feel ready, but isn’t sure how to tell Louis without disappointing him since he already told him he was.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Louis apologizes quietly, and Harry snaps back to attention. He takes Harry’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles, and Harry kind of wants to throw up.

“It’s fine,” Harry squeaks. “Sorry I got us lost.”

Louis holds his hand as they walk into the restaurant together. Harry leans into him, because even though he’s nervous for later, there’s nowhere he’d rather be and no one he’d rather be with. His feelings for Louis are intense, and make it hard to focus during class sometimes. He thinks he might possibly be in love, but he knows he wouldn’t tell Louis that unless he said it first.

Their table hides in a dark corner, illuminated by a single white candle and the dim glow of a chandelier. The restaurant feels romantic and grown up, and Harry doesn’t feel like he belongs. After all, he’s only sixteen; he can’t even legally order something to drink. It feels like every single eye is on him as Louis guides him to his seat, and he knows it isn’t because he and Louis are the cutest couple to exist ever, as he likes to pretend when people give them dirty looks when they hold hands in public.

It’s because he sticks out. He still has a tiny layer of baby fat, and his limbs are too long for his body. He has two huge pimples he tried to cover with his sister’s concealer, but it didn’t do him any good. It’s obvious he isn’t an adult, and his face burns red even after they order their drinks and people have stopped paying attention to them.

Louis hooks their feet together under the table, and Harry can breathe a little bit easier. His earlier irritation seems to have subsided, and that calms Harry, too. Sometimes, Harry can feel what Louis feels without even noticing he’s affected.

“Are you okay, babe? You’re a little red,” Louis points out, and Harry blushes an even deeper scarlet.

“Yeah, I’m great. It’s just a little warm in here,” he coughs out, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

It’s really not warm at all, but thankfully Louis doesn’t say anything.

They glance over their menus, but Harry can’t take in any of the words. They’re foreign, and Harry has no room in his brain for thoughts other than _oh my god it’s happening soon_ and _I don’t think I can_ do _this_. His fingers shake so badly he has to read his menu flat on the table.

“Want to split something, babe?” Louis asks, setting his own menu down and reaching for Harry’s hand. He recoils without thinking, tugging his hand away at the word split because then all he can think is _he’s literally going to split you open._

Louis’ eyebrows pull together and he raises his hands in a gesture of innocence. “It was just a suggestion.”

“I’m perfectly capable of ordering for myself, thanks,” Harry spits out.

And just—it’s uncharacteristic of him and he knows it. He’s never so rude to anyone, especially Louis. But he feels like he needs to assert his dominance to somehow give a few extra years to his age or something.

He doesn’t really know what’s going on, his mind only half in the present. He’s stuck on tonight at the hotel. He’s honestly just glad he makes sense.

“I can pay for myself if that’s the issue,” he adds on, digging himself a deeper hole. He squints before he chances a glance up, and Louis looks like he’s biting his tongue against lashing back at him.

“This was my idea,” Louis tells him without eye contact. “You can get whatever the fuck you want.”

Oh no—he made Louis mad.

“I didn’t mean it like… we can split something. I don’t mind,” Harry takes it back, his voice betraying him. He sounds like a child caught breaking the rules.

Louis seems to consider him for a moment, before he licks his lip and his shoulders un-tense. “What do you want, then?”

Harry spends the rest of dinner erasing the crease between Louis’ eyebrows. He tries to make him laugh at his dumb jokes and plays footsie with him under the table and he feeds Louis chocolate cake with his own spoon during dessert. With a new goal in mind, he almost forgets that they’re going back to the hotel at the end of the night.

But as soon as Louis pays the check and holds his hand out for Harry, he remembers. He remembers, and he’s still just as nervous and unsure and afraid as before.

“I—bathroom,” Harry tells Louis, letting go of his hand before rushing to the hallway and closing the door to the bathroom behind himself. There’s a lock since there’s just the one toilet, and he sinks to the floor with his back to the wall.

He dials Niall’s number and prays he picks up.

“Hey, Harry. How’s the anniversary?” Niall asks, which—okay, that makes things easier.

“Horrible. I’m messing everything up,” Harry complains, tugging on one of his curls in frustration.

“How?” Niall asks, sounding bored. Sometimes Niall is selfish with his interest.

“I got us really lost and then I made Louis really mad because I said something kind of rude.”

Niall is silent on the other end for too long. His leg starts to shake.

“Okay, well is he still mad?”

Harry doesn’t know how to respond. “I don’t think so, but maybe.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Either he’s mad or he isn’t.”

“I don’t think he’s mad anymore, but I’m about to mess everything up,” Harry confesses. He takes in a deep breath before he continues, his voice breaking. “Niall, he thinks we’re having _sex_ tonight."

His heart clenches and he wraps an arm around his stomach. He wishes he were at home watching a movie with his mum or sister, where things are safe and familiar and not scary.

Niall gasps. “Did he tell you that? I’ll come get you if he won’t—“

“He thinks it’s happening because I _told_ him it would,” Harry interrupts, regretting that he’s neglected to give Niall their relationship details when his whole attitude towards Louis has shifted positively. “I was sure I wanted it, but now that it’s actually happening I feel sick. Like, it isn’t nerves like it was when we first got together. This is just really big and I’m really, really _scared_.”

Niall is quiet, and Harry bites his lip against the sudden wetness in his eyes. He won’t cry. He _won’t_.

“Harry, that’s okay. Louis will understand. You just have to tell him you’re not ready.” Niall’s voice is soft and uncharacteristically serious, and Harry wishes he were right next to him, rubbing his back and offering to tell Louis himself so Harry didn’t have to.

“He’ll think I’m immature,” Harry whispers.

He feels trapped. He wishes he could just avoid Louis until he has more time to think through things, but he knows Louis’ waiting for him outside in the cold. The issue won’t just go away, no matter how much he wants it to.

“Niall, I can’t do this.” There’s a spider crawling near the trashcan, but he can’t find it in him to stand or scream or care, like he normally would.

“You’re making this more difficult than you need to, Harry. Having sex isn’t like making an appointment. You’re not getting charged for pulling out at last minute—heh.”

Harry rolls his eyes at Niall’s lame joke. “I know, but. I don’t know.”

It sounds like Niall is closing a door when he replies. “Harry, you can’t just do it because you don’t know how to say no. You need to be honest, and if he tries to talk you into it you can call me, and I’ll come kick his ass and take you home.”

“You’re the best,” Harry mumbles. Niall hangs up after telling him to text him how it goes.

There’s a line when Harry finally exits the bathroom, but he doesn’t apologize.

Louis waits for him outside the entrance, and a look of relief passes over his features before he pulls Harry into a hug.

“I was afraid you ditched me. I don’t think your mum would be too happy with me if I lost you in the city,” Louis breathes out, and Harry pushes his face into Louis’ chest so he can’t see his eyes. Louis normally makes him feel young and insignificant when he talks about getting him home to his parents, but the meaning is amplified extra tonight.

“There was a line,” Harry lies, wrapping his arms tightly around Louis. He feels safe with his cheek pressed to the soft material of his shirt. Maybe he can just stay here for his whole life, and Louis will never bring up sex again.

“Let’s take a walk,” Louis offers, maneuvering Harry carefully from his front to his side and lacing their fingers together.

Harry will take anything over going back to the hotel at this point. He agrees happily.

The streetlights cast eerie shadows on the pavement as they walk towards the center of town. Some of the streetlights don’t even work, and Harry almost steps on a homeless person wrapped in a sleeping bag.

Harry isn’t sure where Louis is taking him, and it starts to make his palms sweat.

“Where are we going?” Harry asks after a few minutes, louder than he means to. Louis pulls him closer to his side as a rowdy group of drunken men catcall as they pass them.

A few streets over, Harry can hear the screech of tires. He plasters himself to Louis’ side in response, worried.

“I didn’t really have a plan,” Louis admits. “I just kind of wanted to see what the city’s like at night, but I guess it’s a little sketchier than I thought.” A siren punctuates his words, and he stops and turns in the middle of the sidewalk. “Yeah, let’s get back to the car.”

Harry follows, his grip on Louis too tight because the streets are clearing out and it’s too quiet. It feels like the silent part in a movie before a zombie rounds the corner and eats the promiscuous, supporting character.

They take a wrong turn, and Harry can hardly even take in the scene or the strong smell of pee before Louis wraps his arm tight around his shoulder, whispering at him to go go go.

A woman with stringy hair and wild eyes follows them to the corner, yelling at them in a rough voice that instantly sends chills down Harry’s spine. Louis’ arm is still tight against his shoulder, and at the next corner he turns them abruptly, walking them into a well-lit 24/7 mini-market.

The bell pings above their heads, and the clerk sits behind the desk with a bored expression. She hardly spares a glance at them as Louis pulls Harry deeper into the store, and it’s so completely calm compared to the street that it feels like they were plucked from the scene of one movie and thrown into a new one.

“You okay, babe?” Louis asks, running both hands down Harry’s arms. He nods, his pulse slowing as Louis presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Is that lady still following us?” he asks, moving his fingers to Louis’ belt loops to pull him closer and feel his heartbeat.

“No, silly,” Louis tells him, scratching down Harry’s back. “She just didn’t want us coming down her street.” He sounds calm and almost condescending, and again, Harry feels like an inexperienced child who doesn’t understand the world like he should.

“Do you want a snack for tonight?” Louis asks, leading Harry down an aisle of chips.

 _Snack._ A snack sounds like something a child would eat after returning home from school. Louis almost grabs a bag of jalapeño chips, but decides against it.

Harry shakes his head belatedly, and they walk towards the door together, but Louis stops.

In front of the condoms.

Louis looks to the ceiling as though he is trying to remember something, so Harry tries to pull him away so he can pretend it isn’t happening.

“Fuck. I don’t remember whether I packed any,” Louis admits, standing his ground. Harry squirms, crossing his arms across his chest as he balances his weight from one foot to the other.

“But we—do we _really_ need them?” Harry asks. He’s grasping at straws, skirting around his feelings, anything to delay the inevitable: telling Louis.

Louis looks down, scratching behind his neck like he’s uncomfortable as he grabs a box.

“I’m not—I’ve had sex before, Harry. We have to be safe.”

Harry knows this. _Obviously_ Louis is experienced. The correct words are on the tip of his tongue ( _Louis, I don’t want to tonight_ ) but instead he asks, “How many?”

Louis looks like he doesn’t want to answer, and that scares Harry even more.

“How many?” Harry repeats. Suddenly, Louis’ number is the most important piece of information in the world.

Louis steps closer, until he and Harry are almost nose-to-nose. “They were all before I even _met_ you,” he explains.

Harry nods, relieved, but he presses on. “How many were there?”

Louis lets out a long breath, and Harry can briefly smell the chocolate from their dessert. “You’re my boyfriend, so I’m not going to hide it from you. But it’s—there were more than ten. But we were always safe.”

Harry gasps, taking a step back and knocking over a few boxes. He doesn’t move to pick them up, and ignores the groan from the front of the store. He opens his mouth twice before he can get the words out.

“How _many_ more than ten? You’re only eighteen, Louis, _Jesus Christ_. How is that even _possible_?” There is shock in his voice, and something else Harry can’t pinpoint.

Louis’ gaze hardens, and Harry instantly realizes he messed up. Louis’ jaw locks tight as he swallows, and the vein is his neck seems to darken in color. “Thirteen, Harry. And I guess that’s where it’ll stay for now,” Louis adds. He sets the condoms back on the shelf, and picks up the few from the floor, as Harry stands completely still, his whole body frozen.

“Sorry about that,” Louis apologizes to the clerk as he makes his way to the door. He holds it open, gaze trained on Harry as he waits. Harry ducks his head down as he follows, ashamed and feeling as though he might have ruined more than just their night together.

The journey back to the car is silent. Louis walks beside Harry, but keeps his hands to himself the whole time other than when he wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulders when they pass a group of middle-aged men. Harry leans into the contact appreciatively, but as soon as they’re a safe distance away, Louis drops his arm back to his side.

Harry tries to pretend he isn’t pouting.

Louis doesn’t talk to him when they drive to the hotel, and he doesn’t scratch at the back of Harry’s neck like he normally does at stoplights.

Harry can’t breathe. Everything is wrong.

When they make it to the room, Louis sets his bag down by the foot of the bed and turns to Harry. “I’m taking a shower. Do you need the bathroom first?”

Harry shakes his head, so Louis nods and slams the bathroom door behind him.

Harry feels frozen again, but he knows standing around is stupid. If Louis comes out and finds Harry in the exact same position he left him in, he’ll think he’s rude _and_ weird. He changes into shorts, his lip wobbling as he remembers he didn’t bring a shirt because he didn’t think he’d need to. It’s both distressing and bitterly comforting.

He crawls onto his normal side of the bed, curling into a ball with his phone. Niall texted him asking if he needed him. Harry considers calling him and asking for him to come save him, but he thinks it might just make things worse.

_all good no sex tonight_

He throws his phone to the floor, and tries not to cry. He thinks about turning the light off, but it’s already pretty dim, and he won’t be able to sleep anyway. He sniffles and digs his knuckles into his eyes.

This _isn’t_ how he wanted their night to go.

Yeah, there won’t be any sex, but there won’t be anything else, either. And now Louis is mad at him. _Really_ mad. Rightfully mad.

He hears the shower shut off, and tenses as he waits for Louis to come out. His stomach twists into a tight, guilty knot, and a few tears slip out as he holds his breath.

The blanket it soft and thick, but Harry is made of ice alone in the bed.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Harry stays as still as possible. He avoids the problem, as he has all day.

He hears Louis drop something to the floor, and he almost bites his lip as he realizes it’s his towel. Louis is probably naked and in the same room as Harry, but he’s not allowed to touch and he would feel creepy for looking. He digs his fingernails into his palms and tries to keep his breath even so Louis doesn’t suspect he’s faking sleep.

By the time Louis walks to the lamp, he has shorts on. Harry opens his eyes the tiniest bit, until he can see the general, blurry outline of the room. Louis pauses by the light, standing with his hip popped to the side, and Harry almost whimpers.

Louis stares at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, until Harry is only seconds away from opening his eyes and admitting to being a fraud and begging for Louis’ forgiveness. But then Louis sighs and reaches forward, as if he’s going to touch Harry’s face or hair. He stops, though, when his hand is close enough that Harry can feel their heat combining.

He pulls his hand back with an expression Harry can’t make out, switching the light off before checking that the door is locked. When he lies down, he curls into a ball on his own side of the bed, and Harry bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood.

The wall between them feels stronger than Harry’s bones. He is weak, crumbling, and it’s all his fault.

He should have just told Louis what the issue was. He feels smaller than he did at the restaurant, and more vulnerable than before. He is shirtless in an unfamiliar hotel room while his boyfriend refuses to even talk to him, and his pillow is wet with tears.

But then he remembers that they could have been having sex instead, and everything feels even worse. He wants that with Louis eventually, but real, penetrating sex feels too big and intimidating to him right now; he squeezes his eyelids shut as he wishes he were older so it didn’t feel so life altering and important.

He also really wants Louis to hold him, because he feels so alone with his fear, even though Harry could reach to the side and he’d be touching Louis’ back.

And, hindsight 20/20, Harry realizes Louis wouldn’t have minded. He would have kissed him and told him he was fine with whatever Harry wanted, and maybe they could have taken a bath together with bubbles like Harry likes and Louis might have even given him a blowjob.

This is the same Louis who wouldn’t even _kiss_ him for the first time when he seemed unsure. Harry feels so stupid.

He shakes with silent sobs as Louis lies completely still on the other side of the bed. If he can tell that Harry is crying, he hides it well.

It’s almost funny, because _now_ Harry would give anything just to have Louis touch him.

~ ~ ~

Harry is a mess. He is a certifiable mess. Niall keeps telling him he just needs to talk to Louis and everything will sort itself out, but—

It’s been six days since The Incident.

The morning after The Incident, Louis didn’t kiss him awake or even give him a morning cuddle. He sat on the edge of the bed and hardly even glanced at Harry when he told him to get ready to go.

Louis played loud music on the 45-minute drive back home, so they didn’t have to talk. When he pulled up to Harry’s house, he turned so Harry kissed his cheek instead of his lips before giving him a casual _see you._

And it only went downhill from there.

Louis texted him that he had to take his sisters to school that Sunday night, so Niall gave Harry a ride to school every morning Monday through Friday. Harry pretended to have things to do after school so Louis wouldn’t pass by him walking home and realize how much better off he was without him, and he hasn’t smiled with his dimples since the dinner when everything went wrong.

So yeah, Harry is freaking out a little. It feels like their relationship is in a weird limbo, because it’s like they’re fighting but they’re perfectly civil to each other when they pass by each other in the halls. They haven’t actually addressed the issue, but since neither of them bring it up Harry isn’t even sure whether there _is_ an issue.

But no—there’s definitely an issue.

Their relationship is flat lining. There’s no up and down in this stage, and Harry has seen enough hospital shows to know it’s a sign of death.

Harry doesn’t want their relationship to be dead, but he doesn’t know how to fix something he inadvertently killed.

~

During chemistry, Harry and Niall’s class is given the option to watch the end of the year senior presentations or do a worksheet. There’s literally nothing worse than busy work, so they pack up their bags and head to the auditorium with the rest of their class.

He and Niall sit in one of the middle rows by themselves. Most classes opt out of watching, so their class is spread out in little cliques because there’s enough room for it. Harry glances around and his eyes narrow in on Zayn’s perfect hair, sitting in the front row like he—

Harry gasps; he forgot that Louis’ presentation is today. He remembers him mentioning it on the day of The Incident during dinner, but he can’t remember what it’s about and he instantly feels guilty for not texting him good luck or giving him a calming blowjob—

But then he remembers they’re fighting, and Louis has hardly even looked at him all week, and he just feels sad.

“Louis’ presentation is today,” he mumbles to Niall as a nervous-looking girl with frizzy hair takes the stage. The lights are on and nobody else is paying any attention, so Harry pulls his phone out and scrolls through his messages, clicking on his and Louis’ past conversations full of emojis and hearts and pretending nothing is wrong.

But then Louis walks onto stage, and Zayn claps for him and he smiles his perfect, pointy smile and Harry can feel his mouth dry out. He hasn’t been able to really _look_ at Louis for six days, and he probably forgot how beautiful he is because he clutches Niall’s arm and Niall whisper-yells that he needs to calm down and let go or he’ll burst a vein.

But Louis is just so pretty. Harry misses him so much he hasn’t been able to eat anything but the pity cupcakes his mum made for him when he told her Niall was going to pick him up for school this week.

Louis clears his throat, and Harry scoots forward in his seat. He considers shushing the two girls talking in the row ahead of them, but he figures that would seem too desperate. He listens hard, intent on hearing every single syllable because he’s gone without Louis’ voice for almost _six days._

Six days too long.

“Hi. I’m Louis Tomlinson, and my presentation will be on the ethics of publicly funded birth control.” He pauses as he flips a notecard, and his eyebrows pull together just the slightest bit. Anyone else might miss it, but Harry knows something is off.

“Anyone who knows me could testify that birth control is a _very_ relevant topic to my life,” Louis adds as he casually inspects his cards, turning them over and reorganizing. There’s a genuine laugh from those in the front row, and Harry is hit with a wave of _you don’t deserve him_ feelings.

Louis is a hilarious and perfect and charismatic man, and Harry is a fearful, awkward teenager.

He tunes out the actual words of Louis’ presentation once it gets going, and instead focuses on the way he moves and his clothes, his facial expressions and the perfect tone of his voice.

Louis works the stage like he was born to be a rock star, even though it’s a shitty school auditorium with dirty, peeling linoleum. Louis turns to gesture to a picture on his tri-fold, and Harry crosses his ankles so his bones jab at each other harshly because he’s wearing his tightest black jeans, Harry’s favorite and the ones that make him think dirty thoughts every time, without fail.

And God—he’s wearing a red dress shirt with the _sleeves rolled up._ Harry never thought he would find a look on Louis he liked better than naked, but the curve of his chest and shoulders is obscene and it’s affecting him.

Harry wonders whether Louis woke up and consciously decided to end Harry’s life with his clothing choice.

It’s very possible. They’ve never had a fight so big, and Louis might fight dirty. He wouldn’t know.

But then Louis drops a notecard, and he bends over to retrieve it, and Harry’s breath catches in his throat. There’s a heat flowing through his body, and he feels like he’s vibrating all over. His foot taps on the floor and he wrings his hands together, and he doesn’t realize why Niall is quietly laughing into his hand and pointing down until Harry follows his finger and realizes he’s hard—like, really hard.

He throws his bag on top of his lap and winces at the weight. Niall continues to laugh, but Harry only has eyes for Louis. He uses his hands as he talks, and Harry can’t help but push down on his backpack to relieve some of the pressure when Louis gestures to a fact on the board with two fingers—mostly straight, and reminding Harry too closely of the way he held them together when he prepared Harry for his vibrator.

He feels himself flush from the neck down, and when Louis turns to face the audience and thanks them for listening, Harry can’t even find it in him to clap. He stares at Louis as he searches the room, and the moment their eyes lock Harry whines.

With Niall less than a foot from him. He’s never going to let him forget.

Louis’ smile only falters a little, but before he looks away Harry accidentally droops his eyelids and bites at his lip, the same way he does whenever his orgasm is close but not too close. Louis’ mouth opens a little, like he’s confused, before he drops all of his cards back to the floor.

Harry thinks Louis might possibly come to sit next to him after that, but he grabs his tri fold and goes out of sight for a minute before he reappears and sneaks down the side of the stage—to see Zayn.

Harry wants to cry, and he wants to come. He’s not sure which one he wants more.

“Thought he wouldn’t be able to resist that,” Niall comments lowly, and Harry nods wishfully.

He’s restless throughout the next presentation, antsy as the presenter asks the lights to be turned off because she has a video presentation.

His boner won’t go down, no matter how much he tries to think about crowded elevators and body builders without a neck and kittens.

He sneaks out without anybody stopping him three minutes into her presentation. There’s a bathroom down the hall, so he walks as quickly as he can with his hands awkwardly placed in front of his crotch.

It’s thankfully empty, so he locks himself in a stall and doesn’t hesitate before pulling his pants down mid-thigh and getting a hand around himself.

His phone falls out of the pocket to the floor. It echoes in the deserted bathroom, and Harry almost ignores it because he’s much more eager for an orgasm than a clean phone, but the constant reminder not to forget it repeats in the back of his mind and it’s too distracting.

His eyes widen as he leans down to retrieve it and sees he has a new message—from Louis.

He takes his hand off his cock long enough to swipe his inbox open.

_where are you_

Harry licks his lips before he opens his camera, angling it so he captures his entire lower body and closing his eyes at the flash.

He captions the picture _bathroom next to mr. rivers office_ and presses send.

Harry tries to keep his hands off as he waits, but he’s still so hard it’s almost painful. He clasps his hands together tightly and leans his forearms against the side of the stall, sweat pooling behind his neck in anticipation.

The door bursts open only seconds later.

“I’m in here,” Harry announces, unlocking the stall and hoping it’s Louis and not some random stranger.

But it’s Louis—of course it is. It’s a tight fit for both of them in the single stall, but Louis backs him up until he can feel the cold green plastic against his bare skin.

His knees almost give out, but Louis wraps his left arm around Harry’s waist and shoves a strong leg between his thighs.

Harry’s not sure whether he’s allowed to touch, but he’s missed Louis so much he brings his arms up and wraps them around his neck to help keep himself standing, his hands wrapping around his wrists.

He might explode. He can smell Louis’ cologne and feel him close and it’s overwhelming after going so long without even touching. His eyes turn glassy unexpectedly and Harry can see Louis’ expression change from upset to slightly concerned.

Harry pulls Louis in closer by bending his elbows, and shivers in happiness and relief in Louis’ arms as he tries to subtly rut against his leg.

“You looked like you were two seconds away from coming in front of everyone in there,” Louis grumbles into his hair. Harry nods, pressing against Louis harder. He can feel Louis all along his body. He’s half hard, too, and it’s more than he thought he’d ever have again.

“Lou, I missed you so much,” he pants into Louis’ neck. This time Louis is the one who nods, slipping his hand from Harry’s side to his ass. Harry swallows his moan, because Louis’ fingers are so warm and gentle against his skin but he wants more.

“I missed you t—“

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts out. He feels terrible and knows he was the one who ruined things, and the words have simmered behind his lips since the Condom Incident.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but he moves his hand to Harry’s cock and runs his fingertips along his length. Harry stares up at Louis through his lashes, but Louis refuses to make eye contact as he speaks.

“You can’t get mad at me for my past, Harry. And I’m not _dirty_ or anything just because I’ve had more sex than you.”

Louis’ hand speeds up, and guilt and pleasure flood through Harry’s fingers all the way to his toes. He clutches at Louis’ hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

He knows he needs to say more, but his vocal cords are behind his brain. He moans Louis’ name in the tight space, and pushes his hips up so he slides through Louis’ hand more quickly.

Harry knows anyone could walk in at any minute. They’ve never done anything like this in such a public setting, and the thought makes his toes curl and warmth spread from the pit of his stomach.

Louis’ breathing is loud against Harry’s ear. It tickles, so Harry pushes his cheek to Louis’ lips.

And maybe it’s his subtle way of asking whether he’s forgiven. Louis doesn’t give in; he turns his face to the side so they’re cheek to cheek, and the sharp pang of rejection hits him right in the chest.

It’s hard to breathe with the way Louis uses his thumb the way he knows Harry likes, let alone speak, but he needs to let Louis know the truth.

“I didn’t get mad at you because of that,” Harry pants out. He’s leaking against Louis’ fingers and has been ready to blow since he saw Louis bend down, really, but Harry has gained a little bit of endurance over their four-month relationship.

“I got mad at you because I was mad at _myself_ ,” he continues, hissing against another wave of arousal into Louis’ ear. Louis quickens his pace, and Harry sinks lower against the wall.

He pulls his head back so he’s almost standing straight. Louis follows, tilting his forehead against Harry’s so they’re breathing the same air.

Harry’s bursting at the seams, with so much he needs to get out in the open and be made known.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he explains, avoiding Louis’ sudden, too close for comfort eye contact.

He feels ripped wide open with his pants down in a public bathroom, laying his emotions down for Louis while he has his hand around his dick.

He really should have just told him before it snowballed.

“I didn’t know how to tell you I was _scared.”_

And there—he said it.

Time doesn’t stand still. Life goes on, and Harry is even closer to coming than before.

“What were you afraid of?” Louis asks. His voice is soft and controlled, encouraging.

Harry still nervously tugs at the hair at the base of Louis’ neck. “What we were planning on doing at the hotel, after,” he whimpers as Louis’ hand slows to a stop.

He’s not ready to look at Louis straight on, but he can tell his whole body is completely still.

“I—baby,” Louis says. Harry always feels young when Louis calls him that, but for now it feels right. He _does_ feel small. Louis pulls his chin up with his forefinger, and Harry is positive the look Louis has on his face is one of devastation.

Louis leans in to kiss him as he winds his arms around Harry’s waist. His cock gets caught between them, and it’s been _six_ _days_ since they last kissed.

Louis pulls him in closer, pushing his thigh harder between Harry’s legs as he kisses him softly. The kiss isn’t enough; it’s dry and too sweet with closed lips, but Harry has missed Louis’ touch so much that he comes against Louis’ leg as he grinds against it.

He gasps against Louis’ mouth and closes his eyes as he rides it out, staining both Louis’ black jeans and the red shirt Harry has taken a liking to.

Louis hugs him tight after, until his toes hardly skim the floor and it feels like he has squeezed every ounce of oxygen from his system.

“Harry. Harry, I wouldn’t have been mad. I can’t believe you didn’t think you could _tell_ me that,” Louis whispers. He sounds broken, like Harry might have actually hurt him by hiding it from him for so long.

“And then, _fuck_. This whole week I’ve thought we were both just mad, but you were _scared_ and I— _”_

Harry sniffles against Louis’ shoulder. Feelings are tough.

“You were scared of _me,”_ Louis emphasizes. He pulls back and grabs at Harry’s shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

“I wasn’t scared of _you,_ ” Harry explains, afraid Louis will get the wrong idea. “I was scared of how you’d react. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Louis shakes his head before he finishes his sentence. “You can’t—you can’t do that, Harry. You can’t be with me and ignore what you want just to try to make me happy.”

“But that’s not what it was. I knew you wouldn’t be mad or anything, but it just—“ he takes in a deep breath. “You’ve had a lot of sex, and I haven’t. I don’t know _when_ I’ll be ready to go—you know, and I feel like you’re going to get bored and realize I’m not as grown up as you before then and you’ll try to find someone else.”

Louis stares down at him with his mouth slightly open, but he can’t seem to find the words to say. Harry stares at his eyebrow because it’s almost as effective, but the longer Louis just _stares_ while he still has his pants down the more vulnerable he feels. He bites the inside of his lip as it begins to quiver, but he can’t stop his eyes from watering.

He lets out a quiet whimper as he drops his eyes to the floor. He pulls his jeans up and does the zip and button while his body shakes. His vision is blurred, and he can feel the droplets racing down his cheeks but he can’t stop them.

It’s the moment of truth, and Louis is still speechless.

Harry would rather be anywhere but here. He turns to unlock the stall, but Louis grabs his wrist.

“I’m not going to get bored of you because you’re not ready for sex, babe. I don’t just spend time with you because I want to get in your pants. You didn’t really think that, did you?” he asks with both hands wrapped around Harry’s wrists.

And when Louis phrases it like that, Harry feels bad, like he insulted him and called him shallow. He shakes his head.

“I spend time with you because I _love_ you, and not in the way I love Zayn or my mum. I just want to see you happy all the time, and the it kills me that you were scared _because_ of me and you didn’t think you could tell me.”

Harry thinks it’s possible Louis might have just told him he loves him.

He always imagined it would include a lot more roses, and it would smell better because they wouldn’t be locked in a bathroom stall, but the sentiment is still there.

 _Louis loves him_. He wants to write it in silver Sharpie on the wall, though it wouldn’t stand out too much.

“I love you, too,” Harry says with a timid smile. He knows there was more to Louis’ speech that he was supposed to address, but _I love you_ is playing in a loop in his brain and he can’t focus on much else.

“That’s what you decide to respond to?” Louis laughs, and Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck. He’s missed the smell of his shampoo and being able to touch Louis wherever he wants.

He nods as he presses his pointy tooth into Louis’ shoulder.

Their bodies are lined up toe to shoulder, and it finally feels like things might go back to normal, but Harry can feel that Louis isn’t very hard anymore.

He doesn’t like that, so he sinks to his knees fast, resting them on Louis’ toes as he reaches for Louis’ zipper.

“Wait, Harry, wait,” Louis orders, grabbing at Harry’s shoulder.

Harry looks up at Louis from his knees, impatient. “Why?”

Louis looks like he isn’t sure what he was going for. “Are you—is this okay? Isn’t this, like—“

“This is more than okay,” Harry says, tightening his fingers around Louis’ sides. “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay,” Louis accepts, moving his hand from Harry’s shoulder to his hair. “But we have to promise we’ll be more honest with each other, first. I didn’t like how we just avoided each other this past week. If something is wrong, we talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” Harry smiles up at him.

Louis holds out his pinkie, so Harry loops his around it and they shake.

Pinkie promises are more effective than swearing on the bible. They’re not above them, even at 16 and 18.

Harry licks his lips as Louis settles against the wall, the hand in Harry’s hair tightening and his other hand curling over the top of the stall.

Harry’s hands are only slightly shaky as he frees Louis’ filling cock. He’s done this for Louis at least six times, but he’s still not very experienced and hasn’t mastered his technique yet.

He swallows before leaning forward and slowly licking from the base to the head, looking up at the end to watch Louis’ reaction.

He nods down at him in encouragement, his lip sucked into his mouth like he’s holding himself back.

Harry grabs at the base with one hand and grips at Louis’ hip with the other, squeezing. He likes when Louis talks him through it and tells him how well he’s doing, and Louis’ silence worries him.

“You’re doing good,” Louis whispers to him with a deep voice, smiling in reassurance. Harry nods, opening his mouth wide to take in the tip of Louis’ dick.

He has to remind himself to cover his teeth with his lips before he gets into it. Louis groans as Harry flits his tongue along his slit, so he keeps going. He circles his tongue around the head, glad his mouth didn’t dry out because the first time he did this for Louis he had to run to the kitchen and grab a glass of water so it went smoothly.

Louis doesn't pull Harry closer or thrust into his mouth. He always keeps his hips still, and Harry appreciates it so much he always tries his best.

He really tries to pretend he knows what he’s doing, but there’s too much to consider when giving a blowjob. Sometimes Harry is too focused on one part that he forgets about another.

Whenever he starts to use his tongue more, he forgets that he’s supposed to be moving his head and he forgets to hollow his cheeks. And then whenever he bobs up and down, he forgets he has a tongue or accidentally uncovers his lips and his tooth grazes Louis’ skin.

He pulls off and apologizes as soon as it happens, but Louis isn’t mad. He moves his fingers from Harry’s hair to his lips.

“I love how pink and swollen these get when you do this for me,” he reassures him, so Harry smiles before he swallows Louis down again.

He alternates between taking in a lot and a little at a time, because Niall recently had his first blowjob, and he told him that was what made it so good. His jaw starts to ache, but he wants to make Louis come from just his mouth. He clasps his hands behind his back so he isn’t tempted to touch, and he feels Louis twitch in his mouth.

Louis swears and scratches at Harry’s scalp, but it feels good so he moans around Louis’ cock.

Unexpectedly, Louis’ fingers are tight against the nape of his neck. Harry knows that’s Louis’ signal that he’s close, so he sucks Louis down further until he almost gags.

He planned on letting Louis come down his throat, but he suddenly remembers that Niall told him he’s always wanted to come on a someone's face because he’s seen it in porn and it’s hot.

And it doesn’t sound too bad to Harry. He likes to feel like he and Louis belong to each other, and he doubts there’s a better way to show that than letting Louis make a mess of come on his face.

Normally he’d ask Louis whether he thinks it’s weird, but Louis’ thighs are shaking and his toes curl beneath his knees, so he knows he doesn’t have very long.

He pulls off and opens his mouth wide in front of Louis’ cock. He stares up at Louis’ face to let him know it’s okay, and after a millisecond of eye contact Louis doubles over, his nails scratching down the opposite side of the stall as he pumps his dick twice.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis whispers, and Harry closes his eyes as he comes. Half of it lands in his mouth, but the other half lines his cheek, and he can even feel a drop warm on his eyelid.

Louis doesn’t move, and Harry opens his clean eye to see why. He’s still working his hand over his cock. Only a tiny bit of come oozes out, but Harry leans forward and licks it off, anyway.

Louis shivers, mumbling that he’s too sensitive, so Harry stands. His knees creak, but they only hurt a little bit.

Harry licks his lips as Louis gets redressed, but his tongue can’t reach most of the come on his cheek.

Louis wipes the drop from his eyelid, kissing it softly afterwards. He wipes the rest from his cheek with a wad of toilet paper, and Harry blushes when Louis looks down at his stained jeans.

“God, we’re a mess,” he laughs. He puts his hands on Harry’s waist to pull him in for a kiss, anyway.

It’s slow and feels like an unnecessary apology. They’re okay, now.

“We’re okay,” Harry tells him when he pulls away to breathe.

And it’s true. They’re okay.

It doesn’t matter whether Harry will take five days or five years until he’s ready for more. What they have right now is pretty special.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Why do Harry and Niall always have chemistry together in my fics? And why does he remember things Niall told him when he gives blow jobs? Is this series really about these two or is it propaganda promoting good communication and consent?
> 
> Anyway, I know I kind of said I was thinking about writing the first time they have sex, but I felt like Harry wouldn't be ready yet.
> 
> This fic is kind of important to me because we have so many fics with sexual minxes (is that a word?) who are ready to get it in as soon as possible.
> 
> And that's great! I love to read those! Yay for active sex lives! 
> 
> But I realized sometimes those fics make me feel bad about myself because I'm not like that at all. 
> 
> This fic is for the readers who might not be ready to have sex yet, or in five years, or ever.
> 
> Waiting can be sexy, too! Talk about things with your partner! And if someone tries to pressure you into sex, punch them in the face and leave!
> 
> My [tumblr](http:/thedarkestlarrie.tumblr.com) if you would like to come talk to me!


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